Revenge
by LittleMagenta
Summary: --COMPLETE-- Also humorromanceonesided. AU. Nny INCHARACTER. Twisted logic can lead to interesting and horrible things. But maybe, just maybe, the reason for what he's doing isn't what he says it is.
1. Chapter One

**Revenge**  


  
  
**Rating:** R   
**Genre:** Angst/Romance/Horror/Humor   
**Authors Note:** I ask anyone who reads this to please review it...I've been working on this series for quite a few years and I'm really happy to finally have started the final editing. The Revenge Trilogy is the biggest project I have ever done and gotten so far with. I'm very proud of it, and I hope everyone enjoys it.  
  
I guess I should explain something about this – I started it in the beginning of eighth grade (I will be starting 10th grade in September 2004). I wrote it for stress relief. That was all it was supposed to be at first – a place where I could write out all my stress by completely taking apart hoards of people little by little. But after a while, it became more than that. It started to develop an actual plot. And after a bit of convincing, my dear friend Sweetbriar convinced me to write a sequel. And then, a sequel to that developed. And so, all this became the Revenge Trilogy.  
  
I hope you all enjoy this...  
  
(In this story I am in tenth grade. I would just like to clarify that I no longer go to that school.) **Disclaimer:** Johnny the Homicidal Maniac © Jhonen Vasquez

* * *

**Chapter One:**  
  
A scream threatened to come, tugging fiercely on my vocal chords. I held it back. It wouldn't do me any good – only serve to give me more stares than I usually received every day, what with my mutilation of the school uniform. It was terribly plain and ugly, but my close friends and I always found ways to make it more interesting.  
  
The Hell I spent five days a week in was the same all-girls Catholic school I had been attending since 7th grade, for the past three and a half years. Now I was suffering through the winter of my 10th grade year.  
  
The ugly uniform was half the reason for my misery. There WERE different combinations – the half-see-through white polo shirt was mandatory, but then there was the sweater, khaki pants, navy blue skirt, and plaid kilt.  
  
The easiest combination to manipulate consisted of the short-sleeved polo shirt and the plaid kilt. One of my best friends, Emma, and I mutilated the uniform in basically the same way.  
  
I sat with her in front of the building after school, as I usually did twice a week or so. Her fingernails were painted black, matching her eyeliner. She wore four-inch platforms on her feet, raising her height to 5'9", while mine only raised me two inches, bringing me to 5'3". Her stockings were striped white and black, and her forearm was almost entirely covered with bracelets and wristbands.  
  
I hated my height – despised it, actually. At fourteen and 5'1", I went to the doctors and found out I wouldn't be growing anymore.  
  
I went home and cried for an hour.  
  
Just goes to show how odd the things that break me are.  
  
"I can't believe Mr. Fletcher gave you that late assignment sheet," Emma said. She shook her head. "You couldn't have gotten that homework done. You've been sick!"  
  
"No shit, Emma? And I left my book in my locker, so the only way to do my homework would have been to call someone and copy." I rolled my eyes. "I'm sure he would have liked that. It's like he gets off on failing me."  
  
Mr. Fletcher was one of the most hated teachers in the school – unfair, nasty, and seemingly obsessed with saying "breast cancer".  
  
"Mr. Fletcher." Emma sighed. "Such a manbitch. Well, now that yelling about the pond scum is over, did you bring them?"  
  
"I forget a lot of things," I said, "but I never forget these." I turned my backpack upside down and sent comic books spilling onto the grass.  
  
The assortment wasn't very wide, but good enough for us – Johnny the Homicidal Maniac, Squee!, I Feel Sick, Lenore, and Nightmares and Fairy Tales. I chose Lenore while Emma picked up I Feel Sick.  
  
Emma and I sat there in front of the school for almost an hour, until most of the students had gone and even most of the faculty began to take their leave. My eyes followed Mr. Fletcher's car out the gates.  
  
I settled back down, trying to calm myself, listening to the leaves toss in the November wind.  
  
"Poor girls...so lost, so blinded..."  
  
"What?"  
  
Emma gave me a strange look. "Did you say something to me?"  
  
"No, I thought YOU...never mind."  
  
I couldn't help but notice the wind pick up. I began to get nervous, and with that came a heightened awareness – either that or paranoia. Emma did seem uneasy also, but not as much. I fought myself with the notion that it was all in my head.  
  
But it wasn't.  
  
My book was blown right out of my hand, and Emma's went with it. We reached for them frantically, tossed around in the gust of wind and leaves, until we were blinded and knocked to the ground. All we could do then was wait for the wind to stop. And when it did, I could tell something was wrong, though I couldn't put my finger on it.  
  
When the confusion had gone, it was all-too easy to see what was wrong. We weren't wearing our uniforms anymore. The writing on my t-shirt explained the shock in Emma's eyes. It simply proclaimed – "FUCK YOU".  
  
Emma's new ensemble wasn't exactly...appropriate for a Catholic school either. It said in large, block letters – "FUCK YOUR MORALS, AND FUCK YOUR RULES".  
  
That wasn't it, though. The change was so unbelievable that I hadn't caught on at first. But then I slowly began to notice...nothing at all was right anymore. Not one little detail about the world around me.  
  
There was no concept of realism here. I ran my hand over the solid- colored grass. It felt the same as always. I did the same to a nearby tree, so confused when I could feel the depth and roundness, even though it seemed so flat.  
  
The environment wasn't the only thing that had changed. I held my hands out in front of me. They too were solid-colored, and seemed as flat as paper.  
  
"Well," Emma said, wide-eyed, "THIS will take some getting used to."  
  
"Emma, I think we need some serious psychotherapy."  
  
"Now WHY would you think that?"  
  
"Let's see – I got knocked out by a huge gust of wind, and now suddenly I'm in some cartoon fantasy world."  
  
"I KNOW," Emma said, narrowing her eyes. "I was being SARCASTIC."  
  
I sighed loudly and continued to examine my surroundings. Everyone by now had gone home, or so I thought. A few nuns were still lurking around the convent building, and one of them had a bit of a bone to pick with the two of us.  
  
"Young ladies!"  
  
I groaned. "Oh no..."  
  
The old woman marched up to us, hiking up her skirts as she did so. It was amazing, the things I had come to know about the actual nature of nuns. All their talk of being kind and polite and patient, especially in explaining the concept of sacrilege t someone, was just that – talk, and nothing more.  
  
I nonchalantly crossed my arms, hoping to cover some of my shirt's lettering. "Why Sister, is there a problem?"  
  
She glared at me, her brow furrowed. "Yes, there IS a problem. WHAT kind of clothing do you think you are wearing? And on school grounds...GOD IS WATCHING!! DON'T YOU SEE?!"  
  
It was incredible, watching this woman's eyes bulge straight out of her head. I paid more attention to that rather than listening to her rambling.  
  
"Humans were not created above all others to curse and mutilate our language! You disgrace our God! You disgrace the Christian religion!"  
  
"I'm pagan..." Emma said, arching her eyebrow.  
  
"And I'm JEWISH," I added.  
  
The nun's face turned red. Not partially and not a light hue...her entire, large, cartoon head swelled to twice its size and turned absolutely red.  
  
"Pagan?! Jewish?! This school is for CHRISTIANS! We do not wish to mix with those doomed to Hell! Begone! I will have you expelled! I will — "  
  
Her head dropped off of her body and onto the ground.  
  
"...OH MY GOD!"  
  
It was not an explanation of fear, horror, or disgust. The sickened feeling I should have gotten from seeing a severed head up close was dispensed by the fact that it was simply an unrealistic drawing to me. What shocked me was WHO was responsible for this decapitation.  
  
Johnny C.  
  
I was frozen, unable to speak. Emma, on the other hand – and unfortunately – was not.  
  
"Holy shit! Look, Sam, it's Nny! Right there in person! HOLY SHIT!"  
  
Johnny winced, finally turning his attention to us. "Tell me, could you BE any more annoying?"  
  
Emma lowered her head and kicked at the dirt. I continued to stare at Johnny, breathing heavily, my heart pounding. It was all too good to be true. With me and my heinously long-running habit of lusting after cartoon characters...this was a dream come true.  
  
Of course, fearing for my life, I was not about to confess to a 21- year-old homicidal maniac that I, a 15-year-old Catholic school student, was completely in love with him.  
  
"I suppose I apologize if that previous episode disturbed you," he said in a monotone, "but that woman was trying my patience. And you'll have to get used to it, anyway."  
  
Emma kicked at the bloody head as if it were a soccer ball. "Nah, it wasn't that bad."  
  
"Yeah...n-no problem," I stammered.  
  
"Good." Johnny paused, suddenly seeming uncomfortable. "Well, then, uh...I guess...it's time to get going." He turned and began to leave.  
  
"Hey, wait a minute!" Emma called after him. "Where the hell are you going?"  
  
"Back to my house. And you're coming with me."  
  
"What?!"  
  
"We're going to YOUR house?"  
  
"Did I stammer?" Johnny said coldly. I stared in disbelief...which wasn't much of a change from what I had been doing before.  
  
Now first I'm swept up into...some fantasy world, then the object of my obsessive desire shows up, and then practically ORDERS my friend and me to go back to his house. How was I supposed to believe that this was not a dream?  
  
"Okay, Emma," I whispered once we had started walking, keeping a safe distance away from Johnny. "I think I know what's going on here. See, we were knocked out because the wind into our faces, and now we're doing that weird thing where two people have the same dream. What do you think?"  
  
"...I think it's crazy."  
  
"And all THIS isn't?" I gestured exasperatedly to our surroundings. "We are practically WALKING on the pages of a comic book. How is that not crazy?"  
  
Emma still didn't believe me. Truthfully, I didn't really believe myself either.  
  
We had walked no more than three blocks when Emma shrieked so loudly it caused both Johnny and me to stumble forward.  
  
"SAMMI! LOOK WHO IT IS!"  
  
I almost shrieked MYSELF when I spotted him – Eric. Vampire Eric. Except...he was back to normal, if you could call that state NORMAL. He was grasping the hand of a little girl, about to cross the street.  
  
"Why isn't he a vampire walrus?" I whispered loudly.  
  
The younger girl heard me. "He's been cured for two months now. I'm his little sister. I put him back to normal. I'm actually a genius, but the world just isn't ready for my vast knowledge, so I keep quiet about it."  
  
They crossed the street. Emma hadn't listened to Eric's sister at all. She was too busy staring at the boy, drooling puddles all over the ground. Her eyes glazed over.  
  
"I am going to find him later," she said, trancelike, "and screw his little brains out."  
  
Johnny made a disgusted noise. I rolled my eyes.  
  
"LITTLE brains is right."  
  
"What?"  
  
"Nothing, Emma."  
  
She was silent for the rest of the walk. My guess was that something far more interesting was taking place in her head...not that I wanted to delve any further into what it was. Johnny didn't seem about to attempt conversation either, so I kept my mouth shut.  
  
Fifteen minutes later, we arrived at his house – which was located very close to Blackstone Boulevard.  
  
'Living room' was an appropriate name for that part of the house – it was the cleanest one in the place, as I came to realize after the tour, and it reeked the least. Opening the door to the basement almost caused me to double over and gag.  
  
"DAMN, Johnny," Emma said, waving a hand in front of her nose as the putrid smell wafted over to her. "Do you ever, like, clean this shit up? Like, have you ever used Pine Sol on this place or anything?"  
  
Johnny stared at her. "Occasionally...when I please."  
  
"Do you ever clean out the dead bodies?"  
  
"Every Saturday neighbors find me in my backyard digging mysterious holes – not that they ever bother to ask."  
  
"What would you tell them if they did?" I inquired.  
  
My caretaker thought for a split-second. "The grave would become theirs for being so nosy. So..." his eyes brightened maliciously, and for the first time that day, I saw him smile. "Would you care for a tour?"  
  
"Down THERE?" Emma asked, pointing to the basement door. "Actually, if you don't mind, I was thinking of getting some dinner."  
  
"No. Sorry if I didn't make myself clear; I wasn't actually ASKING."  
  
With that, we were forced down the long flight of stairs to encounter Johnny's vast basement for the first time in real life. I never imagined it could smell so bad. I made a mental note to buy some air fresheners for the place.  
  
He walked closely behind us, making sure we didn't make an attempt to turn back and run. No, the consequences of that would not be pretty.  
  
And neither were the sights I came to see. People of miscellaneous ages tied to the ceilings, screaming as the blood rushed to their heads and the ropes cut into them. Unseen people in boxes made odd noises now and then and complained of rats. Most of them were pinned to the walls in an assortment of ways – with safety pins, fishhooks, nails...some impaled. These people had bought their tickets into this place by leading lives of hypocrisy, deceit, and manipulation. Not one was there without a reason. There were so many more floors to this basement, and I didn't need to see them to know they too were filled.  
  
And yet there were still more of them out in the streets.  
  
Oh, they were sorry now. Sorry they were paying for having their fun in such ways, anyway. I could see it in the eyes of those who could not speak – those eyes, pleading for me to help them, to save them.  
  
As if, after all they had done, they deserved it.  
  
Where they deserved to be, they were. And they wouldn't be leaving.  
  
Everything they had done was okay by THEM, as long as they weren't the ones getting hurt. Now the light of day greeted them with excruciating pain. And they deserved every bit of it.  
  
Emma's thoughts on the matter did not go quite as deep as mine, I could see. She was having a great time poking away at them, stabbing them in the eye with her fingernail and snickering when they thrashed around, unable to do anything. It WAS quite funny.  
  
Leaving the basement was a bit of a relief, only on account of the smell. We moved back into the living room. I flopped down onto the couch, glancing at a nearby wall ornament – a bunny's body held to it by a large nail through its middle.  
  
"So, how did you enjoy that?" my black-haired vigilante wanted to know.  
  
"Oh, it was f-fine," I stammered.  
  
Johnny looked to Emma for a response. She shrugged. "Ah, it was kind of interesting. They smelled kinda weird. But it was funny when they screamed."  
  
My jaw dropped.  
  
"Well, it's a good thing it doesn't bother you much," Johnny said. "Soon you're going to know a lot more about what all this is like."  
  
I had a bad feeling, but tried to send it off with a joke. "Are we about to become your latest wall ornaments, Nny?"  
  
"No...no you're not. Where the hell did you get that idea?"  
  
I shrugged.  
  
"Okay...no, no, that's not what's going to happen at all. Rather, YOU will be joining me for one day, working with me."  
  
"Why?" Emma asked.  
  
"Well, I know some of the things that go on with you two. Since you don't know what it's like making your living as a homicidal maniac and think it would be so fantastic, I've decided to remedy this; killing two birds with one stone. You two get your jollies killing off those you hate, relieving stress and also, hopefully, being so disgusted you'll stop with this longing to kill off anyone who bothers you."  
  
"Why do we have to do that HERE?" I inquired.  
  
"Because I cannot get caught...and as long as you are with me, neither can you. And, once you are done, you will be automatically transported back to wherever the hell you came from, where everything will be just like it was before – as in, no one will be dead and all that shit."  
  
Emma's face brightened. "COOL!"  
  
"But," I wondered, "what would have happened to us if we were never given this privilege?"  
  
Johnny reached into his jacket and drew out two identical short- swords. He placed one into each of our hands.  
  
"You would have slowly lost yourselves and gone absolutely insane. But now, you've been given a chance to fix that. So I suggest you make the best of it."


	2. Chapter Two

**Chapter Two:**

A once-in-a-lifetime chance had just been handed to me. The lives of the people of the world were in my hands. I decided who stayed and who went without any penalty for mistakes.

The feeling of absolute power didn't last so long on Emma's side.

"Wow…tomorrow I get to go on a _killing spree_. That is so freakin' awesome…I feel like going to a nightclub. Who's with me?"

"Emma!"

"WHAT?!"

Johnny looked at her strangely and sighed. "Didn't you just turn fifteen?"

"Yeah, so?"

Johnny sighed again. "And don't you have school tomorrow?"

"…What's your point?"

"I'm not taking you."

Emma's lips formed into a pout. "Why not, Nny?" she whined. "This is supposed to be my night of freedom. And _I wanna go to a nightclub_!" She glared at him. "The only reason you have for not wanting to go is that you're _afraid_."

Johnny frowned darkly. "I am _not_ afraid to go to a freaking nightclub."

"Then why don't we go?" Emma said, smiling devilishly. "I won't believe you unless I see you there with my own two eyes."

After a while of convincing, an aggravated Johnny finally consented. The sky outside was beginning to darken and the night air was cool. Johnny felt like walking, so he gave us coats to wear and we headed off.

The nearest club had a bouncer guarding the front who was the size of a mountain. He stood in front of the door, glancing menacingly at all who passed by; a large black flashlight held over his shoulder. I also might add that he was drooling and in need of quite a few emergency root canals.

Emma stepped up to him fearlessly. "Can you open the door for my friends and me?"

The bouncer's eyes narrowed into slits. "_He_ can go in," he said, motioning to Johnny. "_You two_ can't."

"Why not?"

"You're underage! Now get out of here!"

"I happen to be twenty years old," Emma said defensively.

The bouncer laughed, spraying spit all over a passerby who had foolishly gone too close. At this point, I was beginning to get annoyed – and evidently, so was Johnny.

"Twenty…hahaha – AAUGH!!" He stared down at the long piece of metal protruding from his chest. A spurt of blood poured from his mouth – not something I hadn't seen in movies before – and he dropped.

Johnny grinned. "He was aggravating me."

Simple as that. A man just doing his job, now dead without much reason. But what could be done about that? Nothing now.

The three of us entered the vaguely familiar nightclub. It was packed with teenagers dancing to various beats and antisocials sitting at tables, gazing at the rest of their species wistfully. And then I realized where we were.

I grabbed Emma's arm. "Emma! This is the club _Eric_ always goes to!"

"…Holy shit! It is! OH MY GOD!" Emma shrieked in my ear. "HE'S SITTING RIGHT THERE!"

Emma earned herself a stare from Johnny. I detached myself from her arm.

"Well then…go talk to him."

"Should I?"

"Yes, go ahead."

Emma excitedly scampered over to her faux-vampire-fantasy-lover. I was left standing on the edge of the dance floor with a very bloody homicidal maniac.

"I've got to go wash all this blood off of me," he said sort of nervously. "I'll be right back."

I waited for him where I was, alone, looking out at all the people dancing. Emma was on the dance floor with Eric now. He had probably been so ecstatic because of the fact that _someone_ wanted to dance with him. Dancing in that certain way…

"YOU PEOPLE NEED TO STOP DRY-FUCKING EACH OTHER IN PUBLIC!" I screamed, and felt a hand come down on my shoulder. Knowing it could have been some horny, grinding-obsessive gang member, I was reluctant to turn around. But I was not met with a knife to my throat. Instead, a voice whispered in my ear.

"You respect yourself, at least…it's a good thing."

My heard sped up.

Johnny looked much better now, with the blood washed off. His clothes still hadn't completely dried, and his hair looked like he had stuck it under the sink and shaken it out with his hands.

I tried my best not to melt…noticeably, anyway. Carefully, I removed his hand from my shoulder, hoping he wouldn't get offended. It was all too much excitement.

The rest of the time there was filled with dangling conversation, more awkward pauses than could be counted, and subtle glances over to Emma and Eric. Their dancing _was_ disturbing us, yes, but we could not blame everything on that. Shared tendencies towards shyness held us back even further. With the headache that came from thinking hard for something to say and the sweat from the nervousness (or perhaps the body heat of other people), the event was actually physically painful.

We left after an hour of this hell. Emma was tired out and ready to go. I felt as if I were dying. Walking home was even more painful than trying to keep up a conversation with my vigilante. Emma attempted over and over again to recount her night with Eric to me, but her words fell on deaf ears.

If words ever came from my mouth again, it would be too soon.

* * *

"You can sleep here, in the living room. I don't really sleep much myself…so you can use my own pillows and blankets."

We were now back at Johnny's house, finding ourselves weak and tired out. It wasn't midnight quite yet, but it sure as hell felt like it. Johnny quickly supplied us with his own things to sleep on, and disappeared into the house as we settled down on the living room floor.

It was difficult to fall asleep, though that was nothing out of the ordinary for Emma and myself. Still, she managed to get to sleep by 12:30, leaving me staring blankly at the ceiling.

Sleep would not come. It never did, and I had by now stopped expecting it. But when the time rolled by quarter past one in the morning, I began to get fed up with a blank ceiling and darkness as my only companions. I have up on sleep and rose from the sorry excuse of a bed that I had fashioned on the floor. If a walk around this enormous house could not bring sleep, nothing could.

A few hallways down, I heard a noise coming from one of the nearby rooms. I thought that maybe Johnny was giving one of his "friends" a taste of pain, but when I stepped nearer and the words spoken became clear, I found this was not the case.

"Aren't you glad I brought them here, Nny? Don't you just want to thank me profusely for being such a genius?"

Johnny's voice was a low growl. "No. I'm not glad at all. I don't know how long they'll be here! I don't want two fucking teenage girls living in my house. I don't want to have this company every minute of the day! I have enough responsibility to deal with as it is. You know that!"

"Oh, Nny, I knew you'd be saying that at first. But really now, they're so much like you were at that age. And if things go well, and you _accept_ their friendship or whatever they may have to offer – perhaps you could make yourself _feel_ again. You know the feeling I'm talking about. The warm and squishy one."

I could only imagine the enraged look on Johnny's face as he shouted back to whoever this other person was.

"How many times must I tell you that I am done with all that? Those sorts of things bring only pain – that's it. I've had too much pain in my life already. It would be better to just not feel at all! Everything would be so much _easier_!"

The other voice came, taunting. "Oh, poor little Nny. Stop trying to deny your feelings because you're _afraid_."

"How _dare_ you call me – "

"If something good happens to you, you will be happy. If you are cut, you will bleed and you will feel the pain. Just like any human being."

"FUCK YOU! FUCK YOU AND YOUR LIES, AND YOUR TRYING TO CHANGE ME! _FUCK YOU_, REVEREND MEAT!"

I swear my heart skipped a beat just then. This wasn't right. Reverend Meat _was_ Johnny…he was the part of himself he wanted to escape from; channeled into a ridiculous plastic Burger Boy.

A voice in Johnny's head, and nothing more.

I should have only been able to hear one side of this conversation.

I jumped and almost screamed as the loud SLAM! of something being hurled into a wall shot through the air. I knew it must have been the Burger Boy – still intact, for there had been no shattering noise.

"Why won't you fucking _break_?"

Johnny's voice cracked, and I knew that if he started to cry, I would not have been able to bear it. Quietly, I walked back into the living room and curled up underneath his blankets. Sleep was no closer.

He was a schizophrenic, devoid of hope, and afraid to feel.

And I could hear the voice in his head.


	3. Chapter Three

**Chapter Three:**

****

It was a dress-down day that day. Emma and I borrowed two long black coats from Johnny, fastening our swords to the inside.

"By the way, Nny," I inquired, "how do you plan to come along with us today? We go to an all-girls school, you know."

Johnny grinned. "Well, that's no problem. I mean, now that you're involved in a _government conspiracy_, you do need a bodyguard, after all."

"Aww," Emma said in mock-disappointment, "and I was hoping you'd go in drag."

The corner of Johnny's mouth twitched, but his expression never became clear.

We were then walked to our bus stop. We had gotten a very early start, though, and Emma decided to walk to school herself. Johnny stayed with me, and after an hour or so, the ugly yellow bus appeared around the corner.

I climbed in when it came to a stop and chose an empty seat. Johnny settled down in the seat directly behind me, and I semi-impatiently waited for the bus to pull into my blonde-haired friend Pearl's stop. As usual, she was lugging around her heinously large backpack-on-wheels. The physical exertion from pulling it up the bus stairs sent her gasping for air by the time she reached my seat.

"Hi Sam," she wheezed.

I opened my mouth to reply, but Johnny leaned over to whisper in her ear, "Hey, wouldn't it be funny if I suddenly shoved a knife through this chair?"

"Um, no, not really!" Pearl said. I gave Johnny a glance, telling him to back off. Minutes later, Pearl and I were deep into a conversation about a dream she had had the previous night about werewolves.

Our talk abruptly came to a halt when a loud shriek sounded from the front of the bus. One of the triplets, as I figured. Those obnoxious brats cried hysterically without fail every single day.

Johnny leaned over and hissed in my ear. "She makes you angry, doesn't she?"

"Yes."

"And sometimes, you just wish she weren't here anymore. No more screaming and crying every day."

"I do."

Smiling, he took my hand and pulled me out of my seat. He was surprisingly strong.

"Then make it happen."

Pearl looked at me, confused, as I stood in the middle of the aisle, trembling. My right hand reached into my jacket and fumbled clumsily with the sword.

"Hey! You can't stand there!" Miss Sullivan, the bus monitor, called out to me. "Stay seated while the bus is in motion!"

But I didn't move. I didn't even look at her as I drew out my sword and held it out in front of me. Miss Sullivan, of course, noticed this, and began to advance towards me while the bus continued moving.

"Weapons are not allowed here!"

She'd tell someone and I'd be done for. They'd kick me out of school immediately. I wouldn't be able to destroy those my heart was set on!

That gave me a good enough reason to kill her, didn't it?

She was right in front of me. I stared at her. What to do, what to do? Then, another hand reached over mine and willed my hand to list the sword. Johnny stood behind me. And before I realized what was happening, he had thrust my hand forward and driven the sword into Miss Sullivan's abdomen.

Her eyes widened as she lurched forward, gripping the thick knife that had entered through her stomach and protruded from her back. I stared at it, transfixed, as the dark blood spurted from the sides of the wound.

Johnny, his hand still over mine, hastily yanked my sword from Miss Sullivan, who promptly crumpled in the aisle. The bus became totally quiet.

And the bus driver kept driving.

Then it came. The earsplitting screeches from those next to die.

"This time," Johnny said, "do it yourself."

I had never felt madness like this before. There was anger, despair, regret, joy – all rolled into one. A lust for spilled blood. A want to make them pay.

I turned to the triplet who screamed the most. "You like to scream, don't you? Why don't we see how _loud_ you can scream?"

I drove the knife into the head of the nearest triplet. Both her and her sister screamed louder and louder as the sword was forced deeper into her head. When it stopped, I removed the sword and went on to the next triplet.

"Shut up!" I swung. The first triplet screamed louder than I had ever heard as her sister's scalp dropped to the floor.

"I said _shut up_!"

A final swing. Her screams silenced.

And yet the bus driver continued to drive.

I expected everyone to be looking at me. But no, they had their full attention on the dead triplets. I grabbed the front of a small girl's uniform and wiped my sword clean on it. She shrieked and ran to the back of the bus.

Then the bloodlust and anger subsided, and I noticed the blood on my hands. I began to shake uncontrollably and dropped to my knees.

"My hands…are _covered in blood_…and it's not mine!"

My voice was drowned out by the others.

"Someone call an ambulance!"

"They're _dead_, stupid!"

"Call the police!"

"Who _did_ this?"

And ye…the bus driver continued to drive.

* * *

Meanwhile, Emma, almost a block away from the school, spied a young boy throwing rocks at a squirrel. He had extremely bad aim, Emma noted, as a rock went whizzing by her head.

"DIE, SQUIRREL! HAHAHAHA!"

It was a short, fat boy that looked like a pig with shaggy blonde hair. Emma took out her knife and ran at him.

"Let the squirrels live!" she shrieked, slashing right through the boy's head. He wouldn't be throwing rocks at poor, defenseless squirrels anymore.

Emma looked at the bloody sword, then at the dead boy. She shrugged, wiped it clean, and headed for the school. The squirrel, watching her with large, thankful eyes, scampered after her.

* * *

Making my getaway was extremely easy, albeit painful. While everyone except the bus driver stared at the dead bodies, I pushed open the Emergency Exit and jumped; Johnny behind me.

I landed on the grass, not seriously harmed. I stood and brushed myself off. I could walk the rest of the way to school. As I proceeded to J-walk, I spied Emma bouncing on her way down the street with a squirrel perched on her shoulder.

"You're not going to _believe_ what I did!" I called out to her. "I _killed_ my bus monitor and these three little triplets. And then I jumped out the window."

Emma nodded, catching up to me. "Cool. I put my sword through some fat little kid's brain. He was throwing rocks at Mr. Acorns here. I don't think he liked it very much."

"You're here to slaughter those you _know_," Johnny said condescendingly. "Not strangers you just pick up off the streets."

"Nny, you do that all the time," I reminded him.

He paused. "Yes, well, um—"

"So, Nny, do you think they're really going to buy the whole government conspiracy thing?" Emma interrupted him as he searched for an explanation.

"Oh, well they should. President's orders, you know. Besides, if I don't keep watch over you, some…guys will come and get you or something like that."

"Wait, we _are_ in a government conspiracy?" Emma said, confused. "Why didn't anyone tell me?"

"We're _not_ part of a government conspiracy, you imbecile!" I said, smacking the top of her head with my palm. "We're just pretending so Johnny can watch us! I mean, who in their right mind would let two teenagers go on a killing spree _unsupervised_?"

"Sam, anyone in their right mind wouldn't let two teenagers go on a killing spree _period_."

I waved a hand at her dismissively. "Y'know what…? I don't need this from you."

The three of us stepped onto the school grounds and headed towards the high school building as the Cranston bus pulled in. Not wanting to be questioned about her absence, Emma quickened her pace and walked ahead of Johnny and me. When we caught up to her, she was standing alone on the stairwell, looking perplexed.

"Where do we go?"

I shrugged. "Homeroom?"

"Another question – are we going to have to skip class? We only have four periods a day…we won't get to all the teachers."

Johnny smirked deviously. "It'll all work out. Really, this day will go by so much faster if you stop _thinking_ so hard. Actually, Emma, _you_ have more of a grasp on this than your friend does." He rounded on me. "You crumpled in the aisle of the bus. Reactions like that will be of no use to you."

I lowered my head, not wanting either of them to see the telltale blood rushing to my face. I started up the stairs ahead of them, stopping at the third floor. There I entered a hallway and found my homeroom. Emma followed inside, and we took our seats.

On the blackboard there was written the daily schedule. I did not notice all the stares Johnny received as he entered the room, as I was fixated on the agenda for the day.

"Emma, there's something wrong here."

We had all eight classes today, instead of four. Usually, we would have periods 1, 3, 5, and 7 one day, and 2, 4, 6, and 8 the next. But here it was, on the blackboard – all eight classes.

Confused, I stood and confronted my homeroom teacher.

"Umm…why are we having eight periods today instead of four?"

Her expression told me that the question had an answer I should have known.

"Samantha…we have been doing this since the first day f your freshman year." She looked me over, concerned. "Do you not remember?"

All concern ceased the very next second, when she spotted Johnny on the other side of the room, calmly sitting on Emma's desk. She cleared her throat.

"Miss Boyd and…you, whoever you are. Can either of you explain why…_you're_ here?"

"I have been appointed to Samantha and Emma by the government," he said simply. Though my teacher's skeptically narrowed eyes showed that she saw right through him, he pressed on. "I have been ordered never to leave them alone…at any expense."

"Yes, yes, of course. And why wasn't I notified of this?"

Emma grabbed quickly at Johnny's arm, stopping his hand from creeping towards his knife.

"He's not…you know…entitled to answering questions," she said innocently. "He just…governmental reasons, you know."

Our teacher looked absolutely mind boggled. To my luck, though, she decided to drop the matter and returned to paper sorting. Feeling triumphant, Johnny, Emma, and I returned to our seats and waited as the clock ticked away the seconds.

After we had been silent for about fifteen minutes, waiting for the period one bell to ring, Emma tapped me on the shoulder.

"So…Sam…today's schedule is 7-8-1-2-3-4-5-6."

I nodded.

"…What is that again?"

"Are you shitting me?" I should have expected it, though. Emma asked me questions of this variation daily, if not hourly.

"Fine then…that's science, Spanish, history, study, math, chorus for me, health for you, religion, and English." I turned to Johnny. "So then, what's going to happen when we have to split up?"

"Is there anyone on your list in your chorus class?" he asked.

"Oh definitely – Miss Kreeli. She treats us all like we're frigging five years old. Plus, she fails you if she doesn't think you have a good voice. I mean, what is that?! Some people just don't have the talent!"

Emma placed her hand lightly on my shoulder, gazing at me apologetically. "Samantha…she's failing you, isn't she?"

My mouth dropped open before I could stop it. "What? No! That wasn't what I meant at all! I was just trying to get my point that her teaching methods _suck_ across!"

"Yes, yes, okay, whatever." Johnny held out a hand to shush me. "Emma, how about you? In health?"

Emma grinned devilishly. "Of course. Miss Cummings."

Johnny's features screwed up as he twisted his face into a disturbed expression. "Miss…_what_?! What the _fuck_ kind of name is that?!"

"A really shitty one…" I giggled. "Which fits her perfectly as the health teacher."

And then my luck turned for the worst. As I had opened my mouth to speak, the noise in the room had lulled.

The teacher pointed an accusing finger at me. "Miss Acampora! LANGUAGE! You've earned yourself a nice little detention slip, missy!"

She never even had time to finish writing out the slip. Johnny flew to her side and skillfully wrapped his fingers around her neck. He pressed.

"Neither of them has detention so long as I'm with them." He released her, snatched the paper from her hand, and tossed it into the garbage.

She breathed a sigh of relief and massaged her throat muscles. "This is absolutely _blasphemous_."

"I HEARD THAT, BITCH!" In the next second, he had hit her hard over the head with the flat of his sword. She crumpled to the floor in a dead faint, a lump the size of a basketball protruding from her head.

A collective gasp sounded around the room.

"What? She'll only be out for about an hour." The bell rang. "Oh, look at that! Time to go!"

"B-but –" I started.

"NEVER MIND. Now…where is your science class?"

I pointed to a room two doors down, and he gave us a push to get us walking.

We were somehow the first to enter the room. Miss O'Reilly did not smile when she saw us. She eyed Johnny, but her expression remained otherwise unreadable. Neither of us hated her enough to wish death upon her, though the thoughts of just messing with her a little appealed to me.

Our classmates began to arrive. I took my seat, and Emma took hers next to me. As soon as she sat down, she rummaged through her bag, searching for a notebook to doodle in.

The bell rang, and Miss O'Reilly took her place in the front of the room, her hands folded neatly in front of her as she flashed us her usual "better-than-thou" expression.

"Now…first of all, I'd like to hand back last week's quizzes." She unfolded her hands and placed them on her hips. "Some of you did well. And others…" She deliberately glared across the room at certain people, including Emma and myself. "…Not so well."

"Way to keep it private…"

"I know," Emma muttered in disgust.

"Excuse me, what was that?"

Miss O'Reilly strutted to my table, pursing her lips. "Was there something you'd like to share with the rest of us?"

"No, there's – OH MY GOD, WHAT IS THAT?!"

The entire class turned to look out the window as I pointed frantically. Without thinking, I stood up and did the first thing that came to mind – punched Miss O'Reilly right in the eye. Emma snorted into her hand.

Miss O'Reilly staggered backwards and onto the ground, one hand covering the offended eye. The class noticed, of course, and there was an uproar. My classmates all tried to find someone to point a finger at, but there was no one. We couldn't be caught, being shielded by the Burger Boy.

But if that was so…

It all fell into place, as much as it could. If a product of Johnny's mind could shield someone else besides him, this wasn't as simple as schizophrenia – though even that wasn't all that simple. How had I not realized this before? Maybe that was how it started; how each of them had received a voice – Eff, D-Boy, Bunny, and Reverend Meat. But there was something else, too. Somehow they gained power; had minds of their own, and were able to draw other people in. Seeking more power. That was why I could hear Reverend Meat, and Emma probably could, too.

He was seeking power from us as well.


	4. Chapter Four

**Chapter Four:**

But that wasn't something I had time to dwell on.

"Oh my god...is she like, dead?"

"I don't think so..."

The chaos as my classmates tried to figure out how to handle the situation WAS quite amusing. In the end they decided to leave her there on the floor. With that cleared up, many of the students left their desks to huddle together in their own little cliques.

"Look," Emma said, tapping me on the shoulder. I followed her gaze. "There's Bridget."

It was hard not to notice her. She sat atop the desk; her posse sitting around her, giggling and sneering...at Johnny.

"He's so like, weird looking," Bridget said nastily. "I mean, where does he like, shop? Hasn't he ever heard of COOL shops like Abercrombie and Fitch, or Delia's? Like, anyone who DOESN'T shop there is like, definitely uncool because I like, say so." She glared at her posse. "You like, DO agree with me, don't you? Because if you don't I like, won't invite you to my party this weekend."

The girls answered her by nodding - a clan of brainless, nodding zombies.

Emma grinned. "I say we go mess with her head a little."

I agreed eagerly. I motioned to Johnny and the three of us began to walk towards her and her group of giggling vermin. I noticed one of them sneer at Johnny as we got closer - Kathy. She was like Bridget's main crony. But they were all the same.

"Why do you hate this girl above all others?" Johnny inquired, curious.

"She's a bitch, a backstabber, fits the stereotype of a prep, and she just plain sucks," Emma said simply.

"Plus," I said, "she was talking about YOU, Nny."

Johnny's expression darkened. "She was talking about me?" he said furiously. "What was she saying?"

"Oh, just that you're LIKE, so uncool because you LIKE, don't LIKE, shop at all the same stores she does, which are LIKE, cool because she LIKE, says so."

Johnny glared at her with an expression of pure hatred that only he could make. "Okay, she's dead," he declared.

We straightened, ready to face our long-time enemy. She rolled her eyes exaggeratively.

"Is there something you WANT?" she said, trying to sound bored.

"Of course," I said sarcastically, rolling my eyes. "I want YOU, what did you THINK? I mean, you're just so sexy..."

Bridget narrowed her eyes. Not many people dared to speak to her like that. By now, the rest of her group knew that we meant business. A few of them even laughed. Bridget turned to them, snarling. "Shut the fuck up!" she warned, and turned back to face Emma, Johnny, and me.

"So what's your DEAL?"

"We're going to kill you," Emma blurted out. I jabbed her sharply in the ribs. Bridget just arched her eyebrow.

"You're what?"

I sighed. "Well, since Emma ruined the surprise, I might as well tell you that she's telling the truth. You're finally going to get what you've been asking for all this time."

Before we could take action, the bell rang. Students nervously rose from their seats, gathered up their books, and filed out the door. Emma and I sighed.

"Saved by the bell," she muttered. She turned to Bridget, who now wore a shocked expression on her face. "Just wait until after lunch." She smirked.

Bridget's lackeys had long before whizzed out of the room like they were on fire. She was alone now. It was an amazing sight to see - she was never without her friends. It was like she couldn't function without them constantly near her.

Alone, she rose from her seat and walked out the door, not sure if she should believe us or not.

"Oh well." I sighed. "We'll get her later. But anyway...next we have Spanish. THAT gives us good opportunity."

"Yeah, Miss Luna," Emma said, rolling her eyes. "That BITCH."

"All right then, let's get going," Johnny said, pushing us over to ther door.

Emma and I nodded, though a bit nervously, and walked with Johnny over to the Spanish room in the other building. Since it was a bit cold out, we decided to take the tunnel. It wasn't too crowded, as most people had already gone through.

We went through a long, suspended hallway surrounded by glass, and then started to descend numerous staircases.

"What's this?" Johnny said, pointing to a door. Emma made a face.

"That's the NUN'S convent," I said. "That's where all the grouchy, wrinkly, old people go pray to god every second of their fucking life because they're incapable of solving their own problems."

"...Uh huh."

By now we had amost reached the kindergarten hallway. I despised those children and the way they always STARED at you when you walked by. Didn't they know staring was rude? The children made so much noise...yet the teachers yelled at US if we spoke while going through the hallway.

While I was lost in my bitter thoughts, Emma, who had been talking to Johnny and not looking where she was going, tripped over a child and fell flat on her face. The young girl, standing straight up and unharmed, began to wail.

"That hurt! THAT HURT!" she bawled, her voice ringing out through the corridors. "OOOWW! TEACHER!"

A disgruntled-looking middle-aged woman hobbled out of one of the classrooms. She looked from the child to Emma, who still lay on the ground.

"What's the matter with you?" the teacher snapped. "Get up off the ground! How COULD you harm a small child like this? Have you no HEART?" She took a small pad out of her pocket. "This is NOT how we bring up young women in this school. This calls for a detention."

"But I didn't do anything," Emma moaned, struggling to her feet. "I was just going to class."

The woman paid no attention to Emma, and began to fill out the slip of paper.

"Put the paper down."

Johnny to the rescue, yet again. The woman, who had been too wrapped up in her assumptions about Emma, hadn't even noticed he was there. Indeed, it came as quite a shock to see a blade suddenly pressed against her neck.

She dropped the detention slip to the ground obediently. Johnny calmly returned his sword to the inside of his jacket, retrieved the piece of paper from the round, and tore it in half before throwing it into the trash.

"Now I want you to go back into that room and close the door. Do NOT come out for a full ten minutes. Then, I want you to forget any of this happened. Do you understand?"

The teacher slowly backed into the classroom her eyes unblinking, and closed the door. When the coast seemed clear, Johnny let his guard down and turned back to Emma and me. Emma had the little girl held tightly by the wrist, so she couldn't break away. She opened her mouth wide, drew in a deep breath, and - Johnny silenced her scream before it even began.

Emma quickly dropped the girl's hand and stared at her, lifeless on the floor, her eyes still wide in terror.

"Okay...that's disgusting," she muttered.

"Johnny," I said, "why does this come so easily to you?"

"I'm honestly not sure I know." He shrugged. "I've been doing it for a while. I don't really know any other way. I suppose you get used to it."

"You know," I said, lowering my head slightly, "I always looked at those people...the people who made a living out of hurting and using others...and wished I could do something about it."

Our eyes met, his half-closed. Emma's foot tapped rhythmically on the floor.

"Um...it's time for class, you know. Can we go now?"

"Good idea," Johnny said, and started up the stairs.

"Keep going until you get to the top floor!" I called out.

"Got it," he said, not turning back.

Emma sighed, and started up the stairs herself.

"Emmer," I said, calling her by her nickname, "something wrong?"

She sighed again, put her hands against the railing, and turned to me.

"Okay, Samantha, here's what I say." She said this sternly. "We came here to get rid of some really fucking annoying people, not so you could hang out with Johnny. That's just a really big plus, because, well...he's really hot, and we all know it. My point is, we're not going to be here for very long. There's no guarantee that after we go back home, we can get back HERE. If you get too used to Johnny being here, what's going to happen when reality comes back, and he's just a drawing on paper again?"

I nodded in understanding. She made a lot of sense, as she usually did in her moments of seriousness.

I smiled. "Hey Emma, what about you and Eric?"

Emma waved a hand, resuming her usual attitude. "Oh, I don't think I like him anymore. I just remembered that sometime in the future, he's going to get bitten by a vampire and turn into an ugly walrus-thing."

"Emma...that already happened, and his sister cured him."

"Shut up...I just don't like him much anymore. He's cute, but he's really dumb."

"Emma...guess what?"

Emma leaned away from me suspiciously. "...What?"

"I FEED!"

"Oh my god..."

We ran up the rest of the stairs giggling. Johnny was waiting for us at the top, and Emma and I walked in front, leading him down the hallway to the Spanish classroom.

"She doesn't look so terrible," Johnny said, looking Miss Luna over. Then his gaze hardened. "Of course, looks can be deceiving."

Emma and I entered the room, and went to our desks - mine right next to the door, Emma's a few seats away. Johnny did not follow. I looked at him expectantly.

"I'm leaving this one to you," he said. I shouldn't have expected him to stay with us so faithfully. Not only did we have to do this ourselves, the hard truth was - Johnny didn't want us here. At least, the part that was still inside him didn't want us here. The pieces of himself he had donated to a plastic burger boy - maybe.

Miss Luna glared at us as we took our seats. "You two...you DO know you're late? Why don't we make this a lunchtime retention?"

"What?" Emma shrieked, appalled. "You didn't even let us EXPLAIN. It wasn't our fault we were late! Some kid in kindergarten got us in trouble, pretending I pushed her!"

"I'm sure," Miss Luna said, skeptically. She glanced at Johnny in the doorway. "Now would you mind explaining who this man is?"

"Oh, this is our bodyguard," I replied. "He was assigned to us by the government."

"Are you at least prepared for class?"

"Uhh...no, I guess not..."

"We live with our bodyguard now," Emma said wittily. "All our stuff was confiscated as soon as he was assigned to us." She nodded. "It's probably all burned by now!"

"There is NO excuse for not being prepared for class."

That voice could make my heart stop; make my blood run cold and hot at the same time. It was my OLD Spanish teacher from a few years before, whom I hated even more than Miss Luna. Her name was Miss Valencia. And it wasn't just me that despised her - everyone did. Even the people that didn't have her as a teacher hated her, what with the way she was always lurking in the hallways, ready to pounce on any unsuspecting student who had talked too loudly, or walked too fast.

Miss Valencia joined Miss Luna at the teacher's desk. "Will the two of you come up here?" She narrowed her eyes. "And your...BODYGUARD, too."

Johnny reluctantly abandoned his position against the wall, not really having a choice. Emma and I rose from our seats, confident.

"Everyone else, you can have a few minutes to study for the test today."

We approached the the two teachers, nnot knowing what the hell this TEST she mentioned was.

"You," Miss Luna said to Johnny. "You claim to be appointed to these two girls by the government. Do you have any official ID? Or any proof at all?"

Johnny looked from side to side, and pulled the left flap of his jacket open, revealing the gleaming sword. The blood of the little girl still clung to it, and ran down the blade in tiny rivulets.

"Now," Johnny said threateningly, "any more questions?"

The teachers shook their heads simultaneously, absolutely terrified.

"Good," he said. "And if you're quite SATISFIED, I'm going to step out of the room and clean off my...huh, well, you know." His mood seemed to have brightened from the looks of terror on the teachers' faces - for just about the first time since I had seen him here, he was smiling cheerily.

He turned to Emma and me, and knelt down near us. "By the time I get back, I expect those two bitches dead. I estimate you have...five minutes, more or less. Most likely less."

As soon as he left the room, the teachers, no longer feeling threatened, resumed their assertive attitudes.

"Return to your seats," Miss Luna said, clearing her throat. "You are both excused from any missing homework assignments."

Emma shook her head. "No, sorry, NO. That's not going to be enough this time. You see, we're sick of the way you teachers constantly look for ways to bring us down."

"Personally," I added, "I'm sick of your constant assumptions, and the way you never seem to trust us." I gripped the handle of my sword. "Everything has to be up to YOUR standards, no matter how hard we try. You punish our MISTAKES, like when we forget our books at home. Nothing can be done about a MISTAKE. It was not meant to be done, therefore it should not be punishable! We can't be PERFECT!"

"And then there's the way you never seem to listen to our excuses or explanations. I'm sure if you LISTENED once in a while, you'd save some of us a LOT of misery."

Emma reached into her own jacket and I whispered to her, "You get Miss Luna, I'll get Miss Valencia."

"N-no, wait," Miss Valencia stammered as Emma and I drew out our swords. "We can change, really! We're sorry for how we made you feel...but this can help us IMPROVE our teaching skills!"

I felt victorious at the fact that we had been able to draw the most used and most pathetic plea from her.

"That's what they all say."

It happened easier this time. I didn't care where I hit, as long as she ended up dead. I closed my eyes and swung - felt my sword hit something heavy. I heard a choking sound, a crash, and a scream from Miss Luna.

"Didn't like the looks of that, did you?" Emma said, sneering. "At least you don't have to live with the memory." She thrust the knife just above Miss Luna's waist. Miss Luna fell forward and her head hit the desk, a trickle of blood running down from her mouth.

We felt a sick kind of satisfaction with our work.

"...Assassins!"

Johnny had returned, and was taking precautions to make sure Emma and I could not be blamed for the crime.

"They've escaped," he said bitterly, so everyone could hear him. He was quite convincing. The class stared at him with wide eyes, transfixed.

"I can't believe I let them get away! Look what they've done to your teachers!"

We hid our knives just in time. There was a collection of gasps and shrieks - but once again, we were safe. No one suspected us of the horrible crime we had committed.


	5. Chapter Five

**Chapter Five:**

"Woooee!" Emma sighed loudly, wiping her forehead. "You shoulda seen them!"

I jabbed her in the side with my elbow.

"Well, looks like class is over!" I remarked stupidly. "Time to go off to period one! Oh, don't worry, someone will find these two sooner or later." Nobody moved. "_Now_, you worms! When you're late for class and the teacher asks you for an explanation, do you think they'll believe, 'Oh sorry, but I just came from Spanish and some people ran in and killed my teacher'?"

Emma snorted, but I at least succeeded in getting everybody moving.

"So, should we just leave them here?" I asked her.

"Yeah," Emma said, shrugging. "Some _other_ shitty teacher can find them and have the vision burnt into their mind."

We joined Johnny at the door and made our way all the way back to the high school building, this time choosing to walk outside. Since that way was faster, we were some of the first people to arrive in history. I had been looking forward to this class – the teacher, Miss Theresa, was one of the teachers I despised most. I couldn't figure out why she was so extremely popular with most of the students.

She smirked at me when I looked at her, and I instantly felt my anger level rising. Emma saw me reflexively reach inside my jacket and grabbed my arm.

"Wait, Sam, not yet!"

"Let me go," I snarled. "I'm going to _kill_ her."

"Not _yet_!" Emma protested. "Besides, I'm going to _help_ you. I'm not very fond of Miss Theresa either. I want to wait until she pisses me off, or it's just not worth it."

There was nothing to do but admit defeat. Emma had a point.

We sat down at our desks in the back of the room. Tara, a good friend of ours, sat down with us soon after, right before the bell rang. Miss Theresa took her place at the front of the room and switched on the overhead.

"Take out your notebooks. You have a lot of notes to take today. You're behind all the other classes."

The class groaned simultaneously, and notebooks were pulled out. Miss Theresa laid a piece of paper on the overhead and the screen was suddenly filled with lines and lines of tiny cursive writing.

"The _fuck_?" I whispered. I looked over at Emma. She stared at the writing, her mouth open.

People in the room were whispering to each other, most likely about the insanity of what the teacher wanted us to do. Suddenly, the overhead switched off without warning.

"All right," Miss Theresa said heatedly, "clear your desks for a pop quiz."

"A pop quiz!"

"Yes, a pop quiz. Did you hear me stammer? If you had been quieter, this wouldn't have happened."

"Is this grade going to count?" someone asked.

"Of course," Miss Theresa said smugly. "It's your own faults, anyway."

I glanced at Emma. She smirked and nodded, and we rose to our feet together.

"Question one – what is the meaning of this!"

Half the class raised their hands.

"Miss Theresa, I don't get the question!" someone called out.

"She was talking to us, dingbat!" I yelled. Emma stared at me, puzzled.

"Dingbat…?"

I shrugged. "I read it somewhere!" Johnny groaned in back of me. "Anyway, as I was saying, Miss Theresa, the only reason people were talking is because what you wanted us to do was crazy! There was so much freaking writing, how could you not expect us to complain to our friends? So in a way, this is _your_ fault, not ours. You _want_ us to get a bad grade, don't you? We're under enough stress as it is!"

"Exactly!" Emma pointed an accusing finger. "You caused the noise! _You_ should take the quiz!"

"I don't take quizzes!" Miss Theresa shouted. "I'm the teacher! And you two have just earned yourselves a detention!"

"Second time today," Emma said, shaking her head.

"We must be truly horrible people, right, Emma?" I shook my head also. "The student is always wrong, isn't she? We're just _owned_ by you teachers, aren't we?"

Miss Theresa closed her book. "Girls, go stand in the hallway."

Emma grinned. "Where? Can you come and show us?"

Miss Theresa narrowed her eyes. "All right, go wait for me outside."

We went obediently, the gears turning in Emma's mind. She had an idea.

We waited next to the door. After Miss Theresa had finished administering the quiz, she came out to meet us.

"Okay, girls," she said nastily, her face reddened. "For your disrespect, I want you to go stand right over there, near the corner, where all the dust is."

I raised my eyebrows.

"Just go stand over there! I'll come back for you later!"

"No, you won't."

Miss Theresa began to fidget nervously. "What do you mean by that?"

I rolled my eyes. "You're going to _die_. That much should be obvious."

Miss Theresa grabbed onto the wall, seeking support. "You're just kids! Someone will find you out…do you really want to ruin your lives!"

"You've already _done_ that much," I sneered. "Don't you teachers see what you're doing? With your pop quizzes and trying to give us bad grades, we…we _are_ our grades! They're all anyone cares about! Our _families_ care more about our grades than they care about _us_!"

Emma drew out her blade and held it threateningly near Miss Theresa's face. "So, how do you want to go?" She had a new energy in her, like it was something she had been keeping inside. "If you'd rather go by the blade, you can choose how. Of course, I'm sure there's some other way. We could go down to the kitchen and stuff you in the garbage disposal."

"Emma…no we couldn't."

Miss Theresa didn't answer; rather stood there, stammering. Slowly but surely I started to lose my patience.

"Choose a fucking way to die or I'll shove this fucking knife up your fucking _ass_!"

Miss Theresa seemed appalled by my outburst. Her anger, for a moment, allowed her to forget her fear.

"You can't talk to me like that! I'm sure your parents will be _so_ proud of you when you get _expelled_!"

I glanced at Emma. "Now?"

"Now."

I let go before I let myself think. This world, after all, only existed in an artist's imagination. This was no time or place for second thoughts.

There was a loud slam. I felt a bit of blood spray onto my arms. But there was no scream. The students were still inside the room working on the quiz, asking their friends for answers. Johnny was watching them all, his hand quivering. I opened the door a crack and beckoned him outside.

"What is it now?"

I pointed to the body messily nailed to the wall. "What should we do now?"

"Just get your knives and leave her thee. You can figure it out for yourself." He rolled his eyes exasperatedly. "I'd rather not even be here, but I can't let either of you fuck this up. I know that since you're from somewhere…else, these people are still living where you come from. As long as you have some realistic 'fun' here, I'm hoping that gets all this out of your system. That's what you're here for."

I blinked. "I see. Well then, I guess now that we have this understanding, we can just move on and get this over with. The faster we do, the less you have to bother with _us_." I stalked back into the classroom, Emma behind me. A small gray squirrel was for some reason now perched on her shoulder.

Johnny watched me leave, a look on his face of what I hoped was sincere guilt.

"Ehem," I said, walking to the front of the classroom. "While Miss Theresa was ordering us around, she got a call and had to run home because of…personal business. She wanted me to tell you to just pass in your quizzes and go to your next class."

A loud cheer erupted. People ran for the door, carelessly tossing their papers to the ground. Emma picked one up and looked it over, shaking her head.

"Kathy's gonna fail this quiz," she muttered.

"Emma…" I grabbed her hand and pulled her out of the classroom. "Come on. We have to go to the middle school building _again_."

We walked for a little while through the empty hallways, as the rest of our class had long ago run through. Miss Theresa's body was still lying there in the corner. It was amazing that no one had noticed it.

"I've been thinking," Emma said, "what about the people who aren't in any of our classes? Like…like Lizzy?"

"We'll work something out." I began to climb the almost endless staircases, and was soon panting.

"You'd think we'd be used to this by now," Emma said, gasping. "We've been doing it for _four years_."

The sixth graders stared at us as we walked by. Emma put a hand to her face and randomly began thrashing around in the hallway.

"Narnar…NARNAR!"

Half of the children jumped, while I laughed hysterically. A girl pushed past us, her books clutched to her chest.

"You two are like, such freaks. I don't understand how you can bear to continuously make fools of yourselves."

Bridget, close behind, snickered. She entered into the hallway, but the girl who had spoken continued climbing up to the third floor.

"Lizzy…"

"That was Lizzy?" Emma said.

"…Let's follow her."

Johnny glanced around. "You'll be late."

"Who cares?"

Emma shrugged. "She'd be in class by now. So we need someone to get her _out_ of class." She grinned. "Oh, Nny…"

He looked at her with a suspicious side-glance. "What…?"

"You could tell her teacher that something _bad_ happened to one of her family members, and you're from the national police, so…"

"That's immensely stupid."

"All the _teachers_ here are stupid."

We clambered up the stairs and stopped at the first classroom. I tried to peek inside.

"I can't tell if she's in there. Nny, go ask the teacher if Lizzy is in there!" I pushed him into the classroom, which undoubtedly annoyed him.

Johnny stood in front, most of the students sneering and snickering. He cleared his throat. I couldn't tell if he was acting or genuinely nervous.

"Ehem, um…is someone named Lizzy in this classroom?"

"No!" someone blurted out. "She's in 3-5 right now!"

"Okay…thanks."

"3-5," I repeated when Johnny had rejoined us. "That means she's at the end of the hall. Let's go!"

We hurried over to the room, where Mr. Fletcher, having regained his consciousness, was handing out the usual late assignment sheets.

"Go ahead, Nny," I muttered. I was still a little angry with him from our earlier conversation, but I wasn't about to let him spoil my fun.

He marched in with his hands clasped behind his back.

"I believe…Lizzy is in this class?"

"Yes, she is." Mr. Fletcher nodded. "Lizzy, I think this man needs to talk to you."

Lizzy stood up and snobbishly marched out of the room.

"Oh, well, something horrible happened to your mother, and – wait, never mind! Samantha and Emma have something important to discuss with you."

Lizzy rolled her eyes, and then focused them on Emma and myself. "Oh, you two. What do you want _now_?"

Emma didn't make a move, so I stepped forward.

"Lizzy…do you consider yourself really good friends with Bridget?"

"Yeah. What's your point?"

"From what Samantha's told me," Emma began, "I can deduce that she doesn't like you as much as you like her."

"What do you mean?" Lizzy said suspiciously. "Jesus Christ, you fucking make it sound like I'm in love with her or something."

I put a hand on her shoulder, pretending to be comforting.

"Her locker is very close to mine, you know. I can sometimes…overhear things. Things like – 'I don't like Lizzy. I mean, when she laughs it makes you want to laugh too, but she tries to hard to be popular. It's annoying'."

Lizzy slid to the floor, tears welling up in her eyes. "You're lying. You have to be. Bridget wouldn't say that about me! She's…she's one of my best friends."

"Don't worry," I said quietly, "she'll be punished for her wrongdoings. And so will you. Wouldn't you like me to put you out of your misery right now, anyway?"

She looked at me, mascara running down her cheeks. "What?"

I thrust my blade into her skull.

"…Nothing." I turned back to Emma and Johnny. "Let's get to class now."

They nodded in agreement, and followed me down the hall.


	6. Chapter Six

**Chapter Six:**

The silence in study was surprisingly deafening. During some studies, people would laugh and talk loudly. Other times, it was deathly silent. This was one of those times.

I was up as soon as the bell rang, tearing down the hall. "Calzone day!"

"Wait!" Emma and Tara yelled at the same time. I ignored them and kept running, pushing my way through the excruciatingly slow-moving crowd.

"What the fuck is your _problem_?" somebody hissed in my ear. I turned to see Johnny struggling to keep up with me as I leapt down the stairs.

"Nny, it's calzone day! I _need_ to get a pepperoni calzone! When I don't, I get amazingly pissed off and that pisses everyone else off!"

I threw my books into my locket and slammed the door. Barreling through anybody who stood in my way, I ran to the cafeteria. I burst in – and saw the calzone line.

"Dammit..." I dropped my head.

"If getting a fucking calzone will keep you from bitching for the rest of the day, I'll be happy to get one for you." Johnny walked up to the front of the line, to the lunch lady.

"Hey, lady...gimme a pepperoni calzone. Now."

She looked at him disapprovingly. "You cut the line. Do you even work here?"

"I have a four-foot blade on the inside of my jacket. Do you really want to bug me?"

Wide eyed, the lady shook her head, and dropped a pepperoni calzone onto a plate. Johnny took it without a thank you and handed it to me.

"Thank you..." I said, looking at him with exaggerated adoration.

"Just show me where you sit before I projectile vomit all over your calzone."

I led him over to the table my friends and I had been sitting at for longer than I could remember. There was a vacant seat. I sat down next to Emma.

"Is Brianna sick _again_?"

My friend Laura answered. "Yeah. She's always sick." She glanced at Johnny. "Who's that guy?"

"This is Nny," Emma said proudly. "He's our protector." Johnny took this opportunity to sit down. I stayed silent, picking through my food. In back of me, where Lizzy would have normally been, there was an empty seat.

"Do you know where Lizzy is?"

I opened my mouth to speak.

"DEAD BODY! DEAD BODY!"

The cafeteria fell silent as Bridget rushed into the cafeteria.

"Bridget, what the hell are you yelling about?" Kathy hissed. "You're embarrassing yourself!"

Bridget ignored Kathy and shrieked, "Guys! I just found Lizzy in the hallway! She's _dead_!"

"What?" one of her friends said, obviously not believing her. "Why are you saying this?"

"BECAUSE IT'S TRUE, GODDAMMIT!"

One side of the cafeteria erupted into screams. I calmly stood up and approached Bridget.

"Bridget, really, I don't see why you're acting so upset. You never even liked her."

"What are you talking about? Of course I liked Lizzy!"

"NO YOU DIDN'T, YOU FUCKING LIAR!" I slammed my fist down on a nearby cafeteria table. "I heard you, you imbecile! Your locker is three fucking feet away from mine! I _hear _things!"

"W-well you're wrong!" Bridget said nervously. "I was only joking around when I talked about her!"

"Yeah, well, before she died, she found out about some of the things you've said about her. She wasn't very happy. In other words, you killed her." That was a complete lie.

"No I didn't!"

The other half of the cafeteria was no longer silent. People were whispering to each other, and Bridget looked almost hysterical.

"There are penalties for murder, Bridget. But don't worry...I'm going to make it all better. I'm going to make it so you won't get in trouble." Emma saw me reach inside my jacket and sprung into action.

"Wait! Let me help!" Grabbing the thing nearest to her, and to Bridget's surprise and horror, Emma began to stab the girl repeatedly with a plastic fork.

"Ow! Why the fuck are you doing this!" Tears sprang into Bridget's eyes. Some of the pinholes in her skin leaked tiny droplets of blood.

"Bridget, Bridget, Bridget," I said condescendingly. "Which would you rather have? Years in a dark, cold, dank cell with no makeup, or death?"

Before she could answer, I slammed my knife harshly through her back. A quick look of shock came over her face as she stared at the blade for that split-second before she died. I yanked it out, and she crumpled to the floor.

"BRIDGET!"

Her friends burst into tears, rushing to her body. I calmly stepped onto a bench and held up my hand in an attempt to silence them.

"Hold it, hold it! It's all okay!" Nobody quieted down. "Hey...SHUT THE HELL UP!"

That got their attention.

"Everyone, you don't have to be so worried, I – "

At that moment, I was interrupted by the sounds of sickness as Bridget's friends got a good look at her mangled body, and began to throw up loudly.

"Sam, look!" Emma pointed to Kathy. I watched in horror as she heaved up her internal organs. Her eyes rolled back into her head, and she crumpled to the floor next to Bridget.

"Ehem...everyone! STOP _BARFING_! Bridget wasn't anyone to blow chips over! See, I was ordered to _destroy_ her. She was actually an android sent by aliens bent on world destruction!"

Things calmed down a bit after that. Emma and I didn't get into any trouble, surprisingly. Instead, we were congratulated by the principal for "our courage in a time of crisis, and for ridding our school of the vile space creature".

But everything was absolutely fine in my book. I got a calzone.

And I was safe in the knowledge that my next class would be exceptionally fun...

Math.

Once again we traveled back to the middle-school building for our class with Mr. Fletcher. I was in high spirits until I heard the piercing laugh that echoed through the tunnel. I whirled around. An eleventh grader behind me was snickering about something to her friends.

"What's _your_ problem?"

The girl's eyes narrowed. "Excuse me, you must not know who I am. I'm Anisa, and no one talks to me like that."

My eyes narrowed also. Of course I knew who she was. We went to summer camp together, after all. She acted just as haughty, if not more there.

Anisa snobbishly marched past us...or rather, attempted to, as Emma stuck out her foot and tripped her.

"Ow!" Anisa cried, stumbling forward. "You _bitch_!" she hissed.

"What were you laughing at?" I demanded to know.

"I was just laughing at your friend here," she said loftily. "I mean, look at him! Who _wouldn't_ laugh at him? He's so _freaky_ and _wacky_ looking."

My heart almost stopped right then. Emma gasped. Johnny turned to Anisa, his eyes half-closed and menacing.

"_What_ did you just call me, you ignorant bitch?"

Anisa took a daring step forward as her friends ran ahead, wanting to avoid conflict.

"I called you freakish and wacky. Now leave me the hell alone. I have to get to class."

"I don't GIVE A SHIT!" Johnny screamed. "You used _that_ word! FUCK! I _hate_ that word!"

Emma rushed to Johnny's side. "Nny! Calm down!"

"Can't I just saw off one of her fingers? Just to teach her a lesson...it wouldn't hurt as much as anything else!"

"Come on, Johnny. Let's just go. I don't know her that well. I just know she's a bitch."

"I don't know who she is!" Emma chimed.

"What the fuck are you talking about?" Anisa raged.

"Absolutely...nothing." Johnny moved back, trying so hard to restrain himself. "Just...go. Now."

Anisa turned on her heel and stalked away. I sighed. I should have expected an intervention by the "w-word" at some point.

"Come on, we're ten minutes late."

Emma skipped away singing a song by Thursday to herself. Johnny sighed angrily.

"Nny, stop being so miserable! Emma and me are really enjoying this. And really, Johnny, you should smile more often! Emotional constipation is _not_ a fun thing!"

And with that, I took off down the hall.

* * *

Emma was already seated by the time I arrived. I took a seat next to her. When I heard the sound of heavy boots stomping down the hell, I knew Johnny had finally caught up. 

He walked into the classroom, eyes cast down to the floor, and leaned against the wall next to Emma's desk. Mr. Fletcher glanced at him from over a stack of papers,

"Are you sure you can wear that sort of clothing here?"

"I have nothing to do with this school. And I thought this was a 'dress-down day'."

"Well, yes, but...there are still things you can't wear. And your boots could likely be classified as a weapon."

"Fuck that."

A few people gasped. "Oh my god! Did you hear what he just said!"

Mr. Fletcher seemed taken aback, but he quickly composed himself. He cleared his throat and shifted a stack of late assignment sheets from his left hand to his right.

"Homework on your desks."

Students exchanged confused glances.

"Mr. Fletcher," someone whined, "I thought you said this homework was due _next _week."

"No, I distinctly said that it was due today. Now who doesn't have it?"

Everyone raised their hands, looking panicked. Mr. Fletcher began his rounds through the classroom.

"Um, Mr. Fletcher," somebody else called out, "I don't think this is fair. I mean, you _say _you told us to have it today, but we _all_ heard you say _next_ week. I don't think you should give us late assignment sheets, you know? I mean, you obviously did something wrong last class."

Mr. Fletcher turned to her, his eyes burning with fury. "How dare you question my teaching methods! You have detention, Miss – "

He stopped. And listened. Somebody was singing quietly.

"_I never said I'd lie and wait forever...If I died, we'd be together...I can't always just forget her...But she could try..."_

"Who...is that?"

Nobody answered, but the singing continued.

"_At the end of the world...Or the last thing I see...You are...Never coming home...Never coming home..."_

I promptly jabbed Emma in the ribs with my elbow. Emma immediately stopped singing and began to gasp for the air I had knocked out of her. Now Mr. Fletcher knew it had been her. Within seconds he was hovering over our desks, dangling a detention slip in her face.

"Emma, I believe _this_ will keep you from disrupting my class again."

"What _is_ it with you people and detention?"

Johnny cleared his throat. "Emma needs to be out of school immediately so I can get them to the, um, hideout place. You can't give her detention."

Johnny received a harsh glare from Mr. Fletcher. It seemed he was about to be told off, but then a small gray squirrel jumped into the classroom from an open window. It scurried over to Emma and crawled onto her shoulder, chattering in her ear.

"Emma," I began quietly, "what the fuck is up with that squirrel?"

Emma giggled as the squirrel made its way to the top of her head. "I told you I saved a squirrel from some nasty pig-boy, didn't I? This is him. He's been following my around a lot." She gripped the squirrel by the tail and held him up for the entire class to see. "Hey everybody, say hello to my friend, Mr. Acorns!"

The class held up their hands and waved in one slow motion. Emma giggled and placed the squirrel back on her head.

"You can't take pets to school," Mr. Fletcher said quietly.

"He's not a _pet_, Mr. Fletcher," Emma said darkly, her mood swinging. "He just likes to follow me around. I saved his life!"

Mr. Fletcher crossed his arms. "Well then, I'll just have to call pest control."

If looks could kill, Emma would have maimed the man with her eyes. But thankfully, we had better methods.

"Listen, Mr. Fletcher, why don't we talk about this in the hall?"

Mr. Fletcher stubbornly stayed put. "Any special reason?"

"Listen, you fucking prick," Johnny said, "if she wants to talk about it in the hall, you're going to talk about it in the fucking hall."

Mr. Fletcher nodded hesitantly and followed Johnny, Emma, and me out into the hallway.

"Now what is it that's so important you have to talk to me out here? I'm calling pest control, and that's that."

"Listen, you sorry excuse for a human being," Emma began loftily, "today, Sammi and I have had our fun going on a killing spree and joyfully annihilating all the people who have _seriously_ gotten on our nerves. I think you know how badly you get on _all_ of our nerves. So it should be evident...that you're next."

"W-wait a minute," Mr. Fletcher stammered. He held up a hand, as if to shield himself, but knew well enough not to run away. "It doesn't all have to end this way. We could talk with your guidance counselor...if the way I treat you kids can drive you do to things like _this_, I can change. Really! I didn't realize what I was doing!"

"Why must you people constantly repeat yourselves?" I sighed. "That story is tired, Mr. Fletcher, so tired." I motioned to Johnny to hold him so he couldn't escape if he dared to try. Johnny gripped him by the shoulders as I told Emma my idea.

Mr. Fletcher was forced over to the nearest water fountain, and his head was thrust down. Emma pinched his nose shut. After granting a few seconds of agonizing confusion, I started the water flow. He tried to wrestle away, but Johnny refused to let up. Mr. Fletcher sputtered, trying to force the water out of his mouth so he could take a breath.

"Stop fighting it and just inhale. You can't hold out forever."

I was absolutely calm, with my finger pressed down on the fountain's button, watching my teacher struggle. I felt more alive than I ever had been before, watching the life being drained from someone else.

After a little while, Mr. Fletcher stopped struggling. I studied him, not noticing any movements. There was no rising and falling of his chest. Emma must have also noticed this, because she stepped back, letting go of his nose.

He attacked us the second we let our guard down.

"You won't get away with this!"

He had faked death, holding his breath to make us believe we had killed him.

"You're going to the principal's," he slurred, gasping from the water he had inhaled. I was amazed that he was still alive.

"Oh my _god_," I marveled. "How the hell can you..._do that_?"

"I don't care!" Emma yelled. "I've been waiting _too_ long for this, and we are _not_ fucking getting busted!" In an insane rage, she tore Mr. Fletcher's glasses off of his face, snapped them in half, grabbed his head with both hands, much like a basketball, and slammed it into the wall.

There was a loud, sickening crack. After my teacher collapsed on the floor, I surveyed the damage his head had inflicted on the wall. There was a large dent. I knew at once that there was no way Mr. Fletcher could be faking death _now_. Johnny even looked impressed. He took hold of Mr. Fletcher's arms and dragged him down the hallway, leaving him just inside the bathroom.


	7. Chapter Seven

**Chapter Seven:**

The three of us strutted back into the room as if everything were fine, as if nothing were different. Things were _very_ different – though only temporarily, I knew. Upon returning to my world, this man and all the others would be alive and well. This somewhat disappointed me. But things _couldn't_ be the same – that would be too risky. This was a place where I could get my anger out, where I could say and do things I wouldn't have been able to otherwise. This was as good as it could get.

Back in the classroom, the students quickly noticed the absence of Mr. Fletcher.

"What happened to him?"

"Oh, well..." I tried to think fast. "He suddenly had this incredible urge to go to the bathroom. And since there isn't a men's bathroom up here, he had to go down to the teacher's lounge place. He could be a while."

"Nice one, Sam," Emma whispered sarcastically. "Mr. Fletcher just suddenly had an _overpowering_ urge to take a _shit_."

But everyone believed me, and of course, in the absence of a teacher, started talking ridiculously loudly. This pissed me off beyond belief. And while everyone in the class was talking away, two sixth graders entered the room with a plateful of cookies.

"These are extras from a party we just had in French class," one of them said cheerfully. "Where's Mr. Fletcher?"

"He's in the bathroom," Jade said.

"Yeah, and he's gonna be awhile," someone added. "You shouldn't stay and wait for him, so...bye! But before you go...can I have a cookie?"

"No!" another girl bitched. "_I_ want one! Just me!"

"Will you all stop fucking _whining_!" Johnny screamed. He had finally lost it. "None of you are going to get anything, so just fucking SHUT UP! Do you really think your bitching and moaning is going to _get you anywhere_? Just _accept_ that you're _not_ going to get a fucking cookie, and MOVE ON!"

The class stared at him, their mouths dropped open. The two small girls quickly ran out of the room, their shoes stomping noisily on the floor. Then the intercom screeched on, and the principal's voice came sounding through the speaker.

"Attention all students, this is a very important announcement – we have just found the bodies of various teachers strewn across the school. For the safety f the students and remaining teachers, there will be an early dismissal today. The bell will ring in just a few moments, and all other classes will be shortened to fifteen minutes! Unfortunately, the busses cannot make it to the school in time since the drivers and monitors have lives during the day, and you'll all have to walk home. Thank you!"

The intercom made a loud shrieking noise as it shut off. Everybody cheered at the news, save for Johnny, Emma, and myself.

"If they really worried about the kids," Johnny muttered, "wouldn't they have let school out right _now_?"

Emma looked at him, confused. "Why would they do that?"

The bell rang. There was a mad dash for the door by the other students, leaving me, Johnny, and Emma standing in the midst of a sea of flying papers. Then, slowly, we walked through the door – and bolted down the hall and stairs. We ran through the tunnel to avoid any unfortunate run-ins with the children. When we finally got back to the highschool building, we went down to the chorus room on the first floor. There, I began having second thoughts. Despite what people said about Mrs. Kreeli, I had never seen it actually _happen_. And she had helped me that one time when I had almost fainted during class in eighth grade. She went through cancer, and had just recently been cured – and now she was going to die anyway?

"Everybody...wait." I hung my head in embarrassment. "I think I've changed my mind about Mrs. Kreeli."

"Well we're not going back now," Johnny said, annoyed. "Are you sure there isn't _anyone_ out there who you could get instead?"

"Actually, I'm not sure. Well, there has to be. I just...don't know who."

We entered the room, and I took my seat. Johnny and Emma stood by the door. I racked my brain, trying to think of the people in the class. Who could I...?

Anabel. Anabel, Anabel, Anabel. How could I have forgotten her? She was the quiet sort, though none too bright. But she was still an extremely obnoxious girl convinced she was right about every solitary thing.

An older-looking woman with short dark hair entered the room and took a seat at the piano in front of the class. It was our substitute teacher, Ms. Mooney.

"Um...Ms. Mooney," I said over the loud chattering of other students, "where's Mrs. Kreeli?"

"Oh, yes, Mrs. Kreeli," she said. She cleared her throat. "Okay, class, quiet down!"

"Hey!" someone yelled. "Where's Mrs. Kreeli?"

"I was just about to answer that!" Ms. Mooney said, becoming testy. "If you would quiet down, I would tell you!" After a few more seconds, the class settle down considerably. "As I was saying, Mrs. Kreeli is getting a little sick again, and was advised to stay home today. She'll be back soon."

Ms. Mooney proceeded to call out the attendance and lead us through the usual voice exercises. I eyed Anabel the entire time, wondering when to make my move. Time was drawing short.

Panicking, I raised my hand. "Ms. Mooney...I have to go."

"You can't go," Anabel said in a voice that set my teeth on edge. "It's too early. We still have seven more minutes."

Barely thinking, I grabbed a pen from the floor and threw it in her direction. Amazingly, it tore straight into her left eye. She screamed, grabbing at the pen, as the entire chorus went from singing to screaming along with her. With all of them distracted, I took my chance to rejoin Johnny and Emma at the door.

"You know...I don't think that'll kill her," Emma said. "She'll be blind in one eye, sure, but she won't die."

I smiled, shaking my head. "Don't worry. Really, that was good enough."

We left the high school building and headed to the gym.

When we finally got to the building, we had to wait for a ridiculously long time before someone would open the door. After that, we made a mad dash for the classroom, we were already almost out of time.

This time, I stood by the door with Johnny while Emma rushed to her seat and dropped into her chair.

"Is there any reason you're so late?" Miss Cummings said condescendingly. "Class started almost ten minutes ago. Fifteen minutes isn't enough time to learn anything! You must know about the terror of STD's!"

I could hear Johnny's breath catch in his throat. Clearly this wasn't going to be easy.

"But you teach us about those _every day_!" Emma protested. "Since 8th grade, they're practically _all_ you talk about!"

"I need to jam it into your brains!" the teacher insisted. "If I don't teach the same thing repeatedly, you'll just forget it and you'll never learn anything new! If you continue to fail all your quizzes we'll _never_ get to teen pregnancy!"

I almost fainted when I saw the look on Johnny's face. It wasn't one he used often – he looked absolutely horrified.

"Well, you know," Emma said, poking her fingertips together, "we don't _forget_. Obviously some of us don't care. And you know...if they choose to whine and bitch about how miserable they are because they thought protected sex wasn't _good enough_ for them...well they can go ahead and rot in hell!"

The entire class stared at her, open-mouthed. Miss Cummings was outraged.

"How dare you say things like that in the classroom! How dare you interrupt me while I'm speaking! How dare you – "

She was interrupted yet again as a sword flew through the air and hit her square in the head. It bounced off and onto the floor, the teacher herself following.

"What the fuck?" Emma said incredulously. "How did that miss?" Infuriated, she leapt up from her chair, ran to Miss Cummings's unconscious form, and began jumping up and down on it. The bones could be heard cracking underneath Emma's gigantic boots.

When she was satisfied, she grabbed my hand and pulled me through the door. Johnny followed just as the bell rang.

* * *

Once we were safe inside the highschool building, we stopped to lean against the lockers, breathing heavily. 

"Okay...period five now." I grinned mischievously. "Religion..._that_ should be fun!" Emma raised her eyebrows as I completely cracked up in the middle of the hallway. People stared at me as they passed by. Johnny, obviously embarrassed, pressed himself against a locker.

Emma slapped me before I collapsed from air-loss. "Sam! Snap out of it! And let's go..._this_ is what we've been waiting all day for!"

I nodded, gasping, and headed down the hall to the religion classroom; which was also, luckily, the English classroom.

"So, for this class you're getting rid of some bitch nun," Johnny said. "What about your next class? Is your English teacher some kind of hideous bitch, too?"

"Oh, hardly," I said. "Miss Jones is awesome. But then...there _is_ this one girl..."

"Sabrina Bishop?" Emma said, nodding. "That's who you were going to say, right?"

"Of course, was there any doubt?" I laughed. "Come on, sit down."

I took my seat, and Emma sat behind me. A little later, Jade sat down next to me.

"Wanna read the latest edition of 'Gothic Scrawny-Ass White Boy and the Booby Cheerleader'?"

"Um...no thanks."

"Suit yourself," she said, shrugging.

I looked up and saw the teacher, Miss Sewell, sitting at her desk and sorting through papers.

"Hey..." someone said. "Where's Sister Pleasant?"

"She's feeling ill today." My face fell. "She will not be coming in."

Suddenly, in a flash of gray hair and dowdy clothes, a figure ran into the room clutching a large wooden cross in its hand.

"The Lord Christ has saved me!" she screamed, holding the cross high above her head. "There I was, sick in bed, when I was miraculously cured by the power of the Almighty Lord!"

Sister Pleasant.

Johnny leaned over to me and whispered, "Is she..."

"Insane, yes."

Miss Sewell's face lit up, and she ran to Sister Pleasant's side, taking hold of the cross. "You are certainly a Chosen One! You have received a sign from the Lord Jesus!"

The two prayed together for about seven minutes, completely unaware of the stares they were receiving.

"Girls, remember this moment," Sister Pleasant said, sighing passionately, "for you have just witnessed a true miracle."

"Ah yes," Miss Sewell said, sighing also. "Now, back to the lesson plan. We have to go through this quickly, since class is almost over." She laughed loudly. "Take this as an example of how caring our school is. A mass killing and class is shortened to only fifteen minutes! Isn't that righteous? Getting you home quickly _and_ giving you your full education!"

I groaned and turned to Emma. "Come on, let's think of some way to get these people out of the room."

We quickly devised a plan and relayed it to Johnny. He nodded.

"I've just...received a call from the government..." he thought hastily. "I need to see Samantha and Emma in the hallway...uh...now."

When we got out of the room and were free to roam the hallways as we pleased, we first went to the bathroom and grabbed a paper towel. And after, when we had found what we were looking for, I covered my hand with the paper towel – and pulled the fire alarm.

The astonishingly loud buzzer echoed throughout the halls. The three of us rushed back to the classroom.

"Everyone! Out! Out! Quickly but quietly!"

Sister Pleasant ushered people out into the halls. Miss Sewell left the room first, followed by my classmates. When they were out of sight, and Sister Pleasant went to go pull up the rear, we pushed her back into the room and closed the door.

"Girls! This is a fire drill! We _need_ to do it right, or we disgrace the entire school!"

"Is the person who owns this school by any chance an obsessive-compulsive who threatens to do something remarkably horrible to one who doesn't perform fire drills exactly the right way?" Johnny asked.

"Why, of course not!" Sister Pleasant said exuberantly. "We just feel a need to show other schools that we are better than them!"

I rolled my eyes. "Sister Pleasant, we have a confession," I said lamely.

"Well, girls, you might want to talk to a priest for that..."

"No. We're the ones who have been killing everyone today." Emma smiled devilishly.

"Y-you're kidding, right?"

"No, they're telling the truth," Johnny said simply. "And by the way, they're _obviously_ not Catholic, you stupid bitch. And correct me if I'm wrong, but I think they're sick of you pushing your worthless beliefs on them."

"What?" Sister Pleasant shrieked. "I'm only trying to make them see that the Catholic religion is the one and only right religion! Do you want them to go to Hell? I'm only trying to help them! You, you're their guardian...why aren't you stopping them?"

"Actually, I gave them the whole idea."

Sister Pleasant, looking faint, grabbed her cross again and sat on top of a desk. I drew out my knife in one fluid motion.

"He says it's for our own good...so I believe him."

"Yeah!" Emma said, nodding her head vigorously.

Sister Pleasant panicked and tightened her grip on the cross. The wood began to splinter in her hands. "W-well...since there is no priest here...I'll help you! I'll start off by asking you some questions."

I raised my eyebrows. "Sure. Go _right_ ahead."

"First...what would make you want to kill? There is nothing you can't overcome! Just learn to ignore things that bother you! Put your faith in Christ, and he will show you the way!"

"You can ignore something and still be insane with anger," Emma said, running a finger up and down the length of her blade. "That doesn't seem like a win to me."

"C-care to explain?"

"No," I said coldly. "That would be time-consuming."

Emma and I ran her through with our knives simultaneously. Then, a loud noise sounded from the lower floor.

"They're coming back!" I said, looking around frantically. When everyone returned to see us in the room with a dead teacher, we would have some explaining to do. Then, I was hit with a brilliant idea.

"Okay, I've got it...we _found_ her this way!"

"What _else_ would you say?" Johnny said derisively.

"Here's what," Emma said. "Miss Sewell...we're so sorry, but we killed Sister Pleasant. You see, she kept trying to convert us, and she annoyed us, so now she's dead!"

"She what?"

Our class was back.


	8. Chapter Eight

**Chapter Eight:**

There was an array of gasps when the class gathered in the doorway and got a good look at the maimed religion teacher.

"No!" Miss Sewell cried. "It can't be! She was one of the Chosen Ones!" She was too busy sobbing openly over the dead teacher's body to notice her student's expressions – terrified but joyful. There was, after all, not one student in the school who was a fan of Sister Pleasant.

Awkwardly, I took hold of Miss Sewell's arm, steadying her.

"I should have known something was wrong when I didn't see her with the others outside!" Miss Sewell cried, clutching at the cross around her neck.

"It's okay," I said, almost sickening myself. A convincing act of compassion and sympathy was a painful one for me to play. "Let's go and tell Miss Raposa what happened."

I had to lift the overweight woman to her feet by myself – which was even more painful than playing 'sympathetic', me being just a short 90 lb girl. But I suffered through the ordeal. I _was_ to be rewarded in the end.

"Emma...care to join us?"

She got the idea. Previously she had seemed mildly confused, like she thought my actions toward Miss Sewell had been sincere.

We, followed by Johnny, took the teacher out into the hallway – but did not take her to where we said we would. Instead of taking her to the assistant principal, Miss Raposa, we led her to the nearest bathroom.

"Girls, what are you doing?" she inquired, confused. "This isn't the way."

"So what?" I snapped. "No one cares that Sister Pleasant is dead."

Miss Sewell continued to weep, clutching at her cross. Emma grabbed it from her hands.

"Stop playing with the _stick_, Miss! It won't do you any good!"

"How dare you call it a _stick_!" Miss Sewell said between sobs. "This is a totem of the _Lord_! Someone you obviously have no faith in! I pity you children."

I rolled my eyes. "I pity _you_, because you're going to be mighty disappointed. Wait...no, no, I don't pity you. This is what you get for being an old, closed-minded Catholic bitch."

"I won't get angry with you!" Miss Sewell cried, still sobbing heavily. "I will _pray_ for your souls!" She bent down and held one arm high over her head. "Ooh, Lord Jesus...bring salvation to these two sinners...lead them down the path of Christianity to salvation and peace!"

Enraged, I took the cross from Emma and broke it in my hands, making tiny bits of splintered wood rain all over the teacher.

"You just don't give a shit about offending others, do you! I don't fucking _believe_ in Jesus! Get it through your _head_!"

"I hate the way you're always trying to convert me," Emma said, her face stone cold. "What's so wrong with just leaving others be? How can you think your people are so great, anyway? Are you forgetting how many people you _slaughtered_ because of their beliefs?"

Miss Sewell sniffed. "I was only trying to help."

And then something snapped inside of me. Something big. "Trying to help...that's all you can fucking say!" I held up one half of the broken cross, a fire burning in my eyes. "Fine, then. Go and see your god for yourself! I hope you're _hideously_ disappointed!"

I thrust half of the broken cross through her back. Emma took the other half and pushed it in from the front.

Immediately I backed away from the pool of blood that was forming on the floor.

"Don't touch it, her blood was probably contaminated with _shit_."

Emma complied and very cheerily walked over to where Johnny was standing in the hallway.

"So, were you watching? What didja think?"

He almost smiled, and then lost it. "I'd rather not say I was impressed."

Emma shrugged and skipped off back to the classroom. I followed behind her, red and short-of-breath from my anger. It felt good to be able to do all that. Very good. But when this was over Miss Sewell would be just fine, like the others. This was no permanent solution. Fun, yes, but it didn't get rid of the problem. What was the _real_ reason for all this?

I feared I would never know.

But I figured I could wait.

Back in the classroom, no one was the wiser. It was accepted that Miss Sewell as in the office, seeking guidance from Miss Raposa.

We waited quietly for the last period of the day to start, "we" being Emma, Johnny, and myself. The rest of the room was obnoxiously loud, as usual.

When Miss Jones entered the classroom, it immediately quieted. I looked over at where Sabrina sat twiddling her thumbs innocently as if she were a model student.

Miss Jones took her place at the front of the room. She, unlike every other teacher I had, was not old, wrinkly, or grouchy. In fact, she was quite beautiful. Also, unlike the other teachers, she knew how to connect with her students.

"Alright, girls," she said, pacing back and forth, "I find it really pointless to give you work when we only have a fifteen minute class. But since our _wonderful_ faculty _has_ to keep school running, I have to give you something to do." She rolled her eyes. "So, I guess I'll give you a printout to read. So while I go out for a second and get this copied, I expect you all to be quiet."

As soon as she left, the room exploded again. People moved to sit on each other's desks and chatted loudly.

I ran a hand down my face and sat back in my chair, annoyed. "Is it really _so_ hard to keep your flapping lips closed for _TWO FUCKING MINUTES!_"

A few of the girls in a corner turned to glare at me, and the talking rose to an even higher level. Miss Jones was none too happy when she came back to the room.

"It's really _sad_ and _pathetic_ that you're not mature enough to stay quiet for just a few seconds." She shook her head. "Just know I'm disappointed in you, okay?"

I smiled brightly as many people in the room turned red. Sabrina turned to me with a quite nasty look on her face.

"You're such a fucking _good girl_," she sneered. "You and your stupid cartoons...I mean, Jesus Christ!" She leapt to her feet in the heat of the moment. "You like fucking _cartoons_! And you think you're more mature than me? You make me feel like a babysitter!"

Miss Jones approached Sabrina, enraged. "You are _not_ going to speak to someone like that in my classroom!"

I rose and held out a hand. "No, Miss Jones. Let me do this. Please." Gracefully, she stepped aside, letting me fight my own battle.

"Without Bridget and Kathy, you'd be the 'Queen' now, you know," I said darkly.

Sabrina smiled, smug. "Yes, I know."

"I suppose that makes you feel special."

"Of course it does! Being better than everyone else...it's what I've been striving for."

Years were close to forming in my eyes. "Enjoy it while you can...you don't deserve the oxygen I breathe."

Next thing, she was dead. She hadn't even seen it coming.

The room went silent. Emma stood up and clapped.

"Wooo, yeah!"

I looked up at Miss Jones, knowing what was coming. I braced myself for the scream.

Instead, she shrugged. "Well...she had it coming."

Emma cracked up laughing, and Johnny smiled. The rest of the class, however, did not seem to agree. They screamed as loud as they could. I had never heard anything like it before.

The bell rang as the screams got louder in a hideous crescendo. I grabbed Emma's hand and rushed for the door as a stampede of classmates chased after me.

"Now might be a good time to GET OUT OF HERE!" Emma called out to Johnny.

"We can't leave until you're finished!" He ran beside us, following our lead outside. "When everyone is gone, you will just...go back! But you're _not_ done yet!"

"How the hell are we supposed to _finish_ if we're run out by an angry mob of bitches!"

"That's the problem, _Emma_! You _can't_!"

"FUCK!" I declared, pulling Emma outside of the building. "Shit! There's actually a bus here! Come on, let's go!"

The three of us raced to the bus, jumping onto it just in time, before our class could see us. As more and more people boarded the bus, I became increasingly confident that we would make it back to Johnny's house alive.

Then, when I looked out the window, I saw someone conversing outside with Miss Raposa. She was pointing to our bus.

Shit.

"Dammit, bus..." I pleased silently. "Go...go!"

But Miss Raposa came onto the bus, a fire burning in her eyes. Emma and I leaned down in our seats, trying to keep out of sight. Johnny did the same.

"Girls, you know who you are, and I know you're here!" She stood tall in the aisle, looking into the seats. "You should know I've called the police! You're not getting away _this_ time!"

"Emma!" I whispered frantically, grabbing onto the front of her shirt. "They're gonna get us and we're gonna go to jail! We're gonna be stuck here!"

A look came over her face, like she had just experienced a revelation.

"Oh...my god. No. No we're not."

"What...?"

"Sam...it's _her_!" She jumped up from the seat, in plain view of Miss Raposa. "It's _her_ we need to get!" She giggled. "How stupid were we? Running from the one person left!"

My heart leapt. She was right! Miss Raposa, and it was all over.

All over.

I felt a pang of sadness as I looked over at Johnny. This was where it ended, where it all ended. After this...I would probably never see him again. But I knew what had to be done.

Miss Raposa noticed Emma and started toward us. Emma drew out her sword in a flash, and swung. She swung it as hard as she could. And if Miss Raposa was beheaded or impaled, I would never know. Because Miss Raposa disappeared. Everyone around us disappeared, followed by every_thing_. And son, only Emma, Johnny, and me were left standing in a pit of blackness. He looked down at us, his arms crossed behind his back.

And then he smiled.

"I _really_ don't want to say that was fun, but..."

"Thanks, Nny," I said.

"Yeah!" Emma chimed in. "Thanks for the..._one-time experience_!" She dramatically threw out her arms and hugged Johnny around the middle. He looked extremely uncomfortable, but did not brush her off. When she let him go, I went in myself, albeit only for a second. I let go, and went back to join Emma.

"Thank you," we said together.

And then it was over. Miss Raposa's dead body was long gone, Johnny was gone. It was over.

I held my hands out in front of me and saw real flesh. I looked over at Emma, who stared back in wonder.

She shook her head, confused. "Samantha...I think I just had the _weirdest_ dream."

"No, Emma...look."

We weren't wearing out uniforms anymore. Instead, we were wearing the clothes we had been wearing in the 'dream'. What's mores, we still wore the shirts that Johnny had given us.

"Emma..." I said, "I think we should get out of here.

Our clothing wasn't exactly appropriate at the moment. Emma nodded, agreeing, and we started to stand up, ready to hightail it out. We were stopped by a voice that made us flinch. Emma and I turned around, wincing. Sure enough, a nun stood in front of us, her arms crossed.

"Ladies...what are those you're wearing?"

"Clothes," Emma said.

"I don't appreciate your cheek!" The nun brushed off her skirts, looking flustered. "Tell me your names. Your parents will be notified of what you've been wearing around here."

"_Fuck_ you," Emma growled.

"Juvenile Hall!" the nun hissed. "That's where _you'll_ be going!"

She shook her head and stomped back off to the bulding. Emma and I did not follow.

Curiously, I reached behind my jacket and felt the handle of my sword. I grinned.

Revenge was sweet.


End file.
